Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

SONIA. Translated front the French nf Henri CSreville. BY ANNIE MURRAY. CHAPTER VIII. Entirely preoccupied with his protege, Boris hur ried through with the little boy's lessons; he was in haste to confide to Lydia the bad treatment of the little pipe-seeker. , . , , . She entered finally, copy-book in hand as usual, but at the lisrt words the young man pronounced, she interrupted him in a displeased manner. “I do not. wish to be mixed up with servants quarrels,” said she, “and mama has forbidden me me to have anything to do with them.’’ “Do you never disobey your mother? asked Bo ris, in a low voice, smilb g. . Lydia was charming when she pouted like a si wiled cliilcf “That is not the reason,” began she, blushing: then she raised her eyes to Boris, who held her hand and was kissing it, and lx'gan to laugh. “It hat a serious air!” she said: “come, sir, g.ve me my exer- ° Boris dictated for some-moments, then between I silk and a new cap, the conversaton changed, not two phrases he resumed till subject. j to again resume the confidential tone of the first The child is very unhappy here: your mother j moments. as you used to do Do you no longer love me? I love you still. I loved you as a colonel and I love you all the same as a general. Is it my mustache that displeases you?” “Ah, Sacha, how long it is since I saw you last!” said the general, shaking his head. “You were about as high as that,”—he pointed to a good sized pink in the border—‘‘and here you are a fine young man. They say you are looked upon with great favor at court,” “Bah!” replied the Prince, “all that is good for the winter, but I have not come to the country to speok of Petersburgh. I had enough of that du ring the six months I passed there. Let us converse of you and of your family. Is Madame Goreline well? I have just seen an adorable young jierson. Is she your daughter!”. “Yes; she is our beauty—our Lydia.” replied the old man, radiant. “She is as amiable as she is pretty, believe me.” “I believe it,” interrupted Armianofi, “but I will retract if vou cease to be* familiar with me.” He took the arm of the good old general, who, entirely satisfied with .his heart at rest, called Sonia and made her bring the largest of his pipes. He of fered it to the young man, who refused, smilingly, and lighted a cigar. The arrival of Madame Goreline cut short the freedom of her husband. At the approach of that dame, dressed, in honor of her guest, in a rolie of does not like her. Eugene put his bead in at the half-ojien door. “What do you wish!” said Boris, impatiently. “My ball,” replied the child, looking him in the face, with a mocking air. “Look for it quickly, and go out,” said Boris. Eugene took five mi mites to ransack every co; of the room, but did not find his ball, by reason of quietly in the middle of the his having left it lyin; entry. . “Leave us in peace!” cried Lydia. “I will tell mama.” “What will you tell mama?” asked Eugene. re» garding his sister this time with the same air of effrontery. “That you are preventing me from taking my In vain the young man tried to reanimate the communicative gayety of his old friend—he could not suceed. Madame 'Goreline held the die of the conversation, and thought she was doing wonders in asking the Prince news of the great world at Petersburgh, of which she had lieon a resident tor i' i merly, for the misfortunes of her husband, she was F of g<>od family, which explained in a word the suf ferings of the poor general: she had only decided to many him for want of a better offer, seeing that her beauty would not lie sufficient to counterbal ance the absence of fortune and personal amiabil ity. Lydia finally came to rejoin the company, an nouncing that tea was ready, and everybody, Bo ris ami Eugene included. were soon seated around lessons,” replied Lydia, blushing to the roots of her the table, covered with fruits, milk, cakes, hot rolls, hair as she made this reply. i in fact all that which constitutes in Russia, a well- “Oli! only that? That is not a great injury,” re- appointed country supper, plied the little boy; uml he went out, carefully clos- Forced by the insufficiency of her resources to ing the door, that he had found a jar. I be economical in the city, Madame Goreline lived “Mama, come and play ball with me,” called he, j grandly in the country, where the products of the at the top of his voice, as he passed by the window. ; farm and the garden cost almost nothing. “Go and call Sonia.” ! Armianorfi was immediately struck with the ‘•Sonia worries me; she plays too well; I don't ; sympathetic countenance of Boris, and he began want her. Come, mama—with you it is much more | a serious conversation in the presence af all. amusing; you always miss the ball. i The young tutor, prejudiced against the lieauty, “You bad boy.” the elegance, the noble origin of the intruder, in “Come, mama—come, immediately!” | whom he feared to find a rival, had litttle to say at Madame Goreline did not know how to resist her first, but he could not long resist the pleasant man- d irling s voice, snd she followed her son to the end ner of the Prince. of the garden. i The two young men soon conversed with vivaci- Left alone, the two young people remained a mo- , ty, and Boris, ean-ied away with interest of the ment in silence. : conversation, did not perceive that, while answer- “I am afraid that he suspects something,” said jug him, the Prince did not take his eyes off Lydia. Lydia. The young girl felt that she was oliser veil—her Boris had the same though?, but he was careful cheek wore a more brilliant flush; the white dress to conceal it for fear of disquieting the young girl, j she wore expressly for this occasion, lieeame her “Perhaps,” said he, smiling to reassure her. “You j wonderfully: she never let any opportunity escape see he is teasing, but not unfriendly towards us,” ; G f making herself more agreeable, and he drew Lydia’s face down upon his shoulder to i BoriS was the favorite. An hour before now she ! affected not to see him, and this little chicanery she A moment after, Boris spoke , continued. I An unfortunate word from Madame Goreliiie al- let us talk most sj sided the harmony of this agreeable evens seriously of the little girl.” ; ing. Intoxicated by the atmosphere, the general, “Again!” said Lydia. “We have only a moment more intelligent than usual, joined in the conversa- and you are employing it to speak of that foolish tion of the young men. It occurred to him to ut- little thing.” j ter some of the truths that the name of M. Prud- “She is very unfortunate, Lydia,” replied Boris, homme has rendered illustrious, also said two or with the same sweetness that he would have used in three times that he was right and could prove it. trying to persuade a little child. “No one loves her | During one of these happy moments when he was here.” ! explaining his thought to the attentive young men, “They have good reason,,’she replied, abruptly; his wife, thinking to show herself very-superior “I cannot bear her myself.” darted this phrase, which formed one of the habit- “Why?” said Boris, surprised and a little hurt, ual refrains of her discourses. “You would do l letter to keep silent, my dear, you never talk anything hut nonsense.” , “Well, well, my dear,” muttered the humiliated I oh 1 "‘"Jjfi dismayed, but too accustomed to su’ ! si”'' -/Vi.:\- sharply as he ought. 5* f The (Sect was m.-asTrO-tis I'J lV-'t'rOe> i: . "i etv. his good humor suddenly fell. embrace her. She did not resist, again. ‘While we are alone for a moment, releasing her hand which he held.” Without lieing able to explain why, Lydia felt she had made the young man angry; a confused feeling toid her that she had dime wrong: instead of JeJung wliat she had against thepoor littjkgirl, she se./.Ri uie'^st preuoCity'md thaf’w'hScfi fmaflSe furnished her, was the best of all. “You love her too much,” said she; “I am jealous of her.” Boris began to laugh and took again the hand he had released, “Since I love her too much,’, replied he, “you must love her also; we will share and neither of us need love her so much, and then she will be better protected.” “Wewil sjx?ak of it another time,” said she. With this conversation, the hour soon rolled away and there was no more said about Sonia that day. An hour after dinner, towards six o’clock, a car- riagte drawn by four sujierb black horses with glit tering harness, stopjied lief ore the gates of the Gore line family. The servants ran to receive the unexpected guest: but before the frightened footman could approach to open the door, the visitor had leaped from his equip age and given orders to his coachman, who drew up the carriage at the end of the yard. ,, “Are the general and his lady at home!” asked >4he new. coiner. ■“I do not know, sir—that is to say, I believe tliey are taking a little repose after dinner,” stammered the servant, more frightened than ever by the splendor of the equipage and the magnificent beard of the coachman. “Who must I announce!” “Announce no one at present,” replied the young visitor, “but when your master and mistress wake, you can tell them that Prince Armianoff has taken the lilierty to visit their garden until they are ready to receive him.” Upon that he directed his steps towards the gar den, opened the little gate which communicated with the yard, and walked along the avenue of Un it was the hour when Lydia had left Boris after the interview which she gave him every day near the spring, while her parents took their nap. They had been speaking of their future, and as it often happens "with great, passionate souls, charmed with ideal beauty, and failing to realize this i»erfection on earth, Boris, usually so confident, had a fit of melancholy. Lydia detested these moments of sadness, and she could not comprehend his deep anguish. She therefore left the spring (Ussatisfied with her 1 ict rot lied, and at the turn of a path, she found herself face to face with a handsome young man of an eastern style, with an open, intelligent face and irreproachable toilet The entire winter at Moscow with its sleighs, balls and theatres, forgotten for the last two months, caine back to her mind at the sight of the young townsman. She paused, contused under the regard of those piercing eyes, but she did not doubt for an instant that the gentleman was their neighlior of whom so much had lieen said and whom she had never seen. Two generations under the Russian sun had not weakened the purity of the Russian type in the fami ly of Prince Armianoff. His sister was the most lieautiful woman at court, as he was the handsom- cavalier in Petersburg. Therefore when he said, in his sweetest voice: “Mademoiselle Goreline, if I am not mistaken. Allow me to introduce myself, the Prince Armianoff,” she felt at her ease, and with perfect grace replied, blushing: “Permit me sir, to go and inform my parents. “Then she made her escape a little embarassed, for this sight of worldly life came to break the magic spell with which the love of Boris had sur rounded her. The general and his wife were soon up, and Stephen Petrovitch ran at once into the garden to embrace the son of his old friend, whom he had not seen since he was a little boy. On perceiving this elegant young man, whose whole person, irreproachably dressed, exhaled an exquisite violet perfume, he stopped, a little aliashed. To be familiar with this handsome cavalier, to call him by his given name, he felt would be impossible. But the prince did not give him time to hesitate l0 “General,” said he, approaching quickly, “do you not recognize the little imp whom you used to spoil?” He folded his arms around the good old general, who deeply moved, embraced him two or three times as in the days when he let him climb upon his * kn ‘lacha,” cried he, at last, “my dear Sacha!” But suddenlv the idea came to him that this little familiar name no longer suited the lieu of Ai mian- off and he liegan, in a graver tone: “Your Highness ” „ _ ,, _ „ , “Let us discard “your highness.” Call me Sacha, • suliinis- J5 Stay * ________ He cast an in terrogative glance at Boris, who had much trouble in not replying by a smile of pity, which his lips indicated in spite of himself. No one seemed surprised; Eugene ate with appe tite; Lydia, placid, continued to move the cups on the tea board; Madame Goreline smile with an agree able manner. “We will talk of this again, at leisure mv dear General," said the Prince, placing his small and delicate hand upon the large rough hand of the mortified old man, “But you may lie right.” “Certainly,” affirmed Boris, regarding the prince with his honest gray eyes, “I am fully ready to be lieve it. ” “If yon liotli wish to do me the honor of visiting my lioyhood home—I have only furnished a small part of "mv father’s house, I will lie happy- to receive you there, and to converse at leisure upon any r sub ject you please. If you love flowers, mademoiselle,” said he to Lydia, “‘these gentlemen can bring you a boquet of very rare roses, which my gardner is proud of having acclimated.” “Lydia, blushing with pleasure, replied with a smile, and soon after Armianoff took leave of his host. “I will count on you M. Grebof,” said he to the young student. “Thank you, prince,” replied he. “I will eeitainly- come to see you. “Armianoff mounted briskly into his superb ca- leche, to the admiration of the servants and country men, who had ran out to see him, and disappeared from the amazed gaze of the crowd. "He is so pleasant!” exclaimed Madame Goreline, hastening to extinguish the superfluous waxen ta pers that burned in the candle-sticks. Boris watched Madame Goreline, and, assured that her husband was with her, he went out to bid his liethrohed good-night. “Ah! y-es, very pleasant!” related the general, still agitated by the insult of his wife", as eustomaey as it was. ‘,Biit why did you speak to me in that way before him.” ‘ f Is it necessary to repeat to you that you com prehend nothing?” She threw this at him as one would a stone at a timid dog. “You amused your self in relating to him, with y-our tutor, a parcel of foolish things, while he could have, during that time, occupied himself with Lydia. “He has. thank God, regarded her enough!” said the brave man, whose heart warmed at the thought of his daughter. “So much the better,” replied his wife sharply-. “When he returns, try and not commence again. It is a marriage that absolutely must lie arranged.” “Yes, dear, lie tranquil—I will be very careful.” “It would Ik- best for you not to interfere at all: for, with your ordinary tact ” She went out, but her liusliand did not care to hear the end of the sentence to appreciate the un expressed kindness. During this conversation, Boris, upon the terrace, had found the means of approaching Lydia an in stant, and whispered to hei: “ Lydia, I adore you! Say- one little word of ten derness. I have not dared to look at you all the evening.” “You have done very r well.” replied she, giving him her hand. “It would, not do to let him see you.” It was not of her betrothed that Lydia dreamed that night. CHAPTER IX. Goreline and Boris made the Prince the promised visit, and soon the latter got the habit of going to see them two or three times a week. He paid as siduous attention to Lydia. Boris perceived this, and several times he was on the ixiint of telling his rival the true state of affairs. He had enough ap preciation of the loyalty of the young man to be persuaded that the latter would renounce his inten tions as soon as he was informed of the truth. But the indecision of the character of Boris pre vented him from taking a decided step, which moreover, would Vx» attended by- danger. How would Lydia’s parents take that sudden change! So he resigned himself to wait. Scarcely a month remained before he must return to Mos cow. and he was sure that the Prince would not fol low them there. The latter could indeed make a formal demand for the hand of the young girl before the expira tion of the term. But then it would be time to speak. And thus Boris let the days pass. During this time, Lvdia made her small reflee tions. She loved Boris; his good figure, his noble and intelligent countenance, and his passion had lost none of its charms; but she had found some one to compare him to; and how could the poor student hold his hand against this brilliant visitor, this ac complished gentleman, who, after having lived amidst the ladies of the court, rendered her such marked homage. In her dreams she had not, perhaps gone so far as to say that the name of the Princess Armianoff was better than that of Madame Grebof; but she had already- seen apix-ar in a vision, the sumptuous apartments, the rich toilets, the sets of precious stones, and, above all, the lialls at the court. These last words made her heart beat: it enjoined up lie- fore her a sort of gilded vapor, a vortex of laces, of diamonds, of silk goods, of lights, of music and perfumes, and above all, upon a glittering throne, the imperial family- who had spoken to the Prince, and who would one day speak to the Princess Ar mianoff- She did not go any father in her dream, but the four years of waiting appeared verv long, and she asked herself, with some fear, if at the end of those four years, Boris would not lie able to earn an in come equal to to that of her father—for she had in idea of the value of things. Every day the hour for the lesson found her calm, the secret kisses of Boris no longer made her trem ble; she received them as something due her, and returned them by habit. He dared not question her, and his heart was broken in thinking that though by his lalxirs, he could bring her a support, he could never give her the feasts of the fashionable world. The share of influence of Madame Goreline over the thoughts of her daughter could easily lx- guessed. She was forever saying to her: “When you will Ik- Princess "’ and this word surely made a lasting imprint as the continual drop ping of water upon a rock. The general had not so high an ambition; this marriage appeared to him as a thing ix-rfectly nat ural and charming; not exactly because his daugh ter would be a great lady-, but because she would pass six months during Spring and Summer in their neighborhood, and he could see her almost daily-. They made it no secret to Boris in alluding to this happy- future. He listened in silence, suppress ing the horrible suffering of his heart, and search ing the eyes of Ly-dia, t here to read some consola tion ; but oftener than otherwise, he did not encoun ter them. With a sort of animal sagacity, Sonia saw that her “master” was unhappy-. She overwhelmed him with kind attentions, but without succeeding in dissipating his melancholy-. She^finnlly- cease I to talk to him; she contented herself by following him with her eyes with the expression of a beaten dog, and she would brighten up as soon as he cast upon her one look, or pronounced her name. She had ceased to render spontaneously little ser vices, which formerly she offered to the whole household; then they- repulsed her, and treated her harshly, accusing her of awkwardness or incapaci ty ; but since they- no longer had her under their thumb, always ready, always alert, her active feet and skillful hand were missed by- every one. “Why are y-ou not here when you are needed!’, said they- to her rudely. “You'have told me a hundred times that I was good for nothing,” replied she, and blows would rain like hail upon her jxior meagre Ixxly, which seemed to have been made unimpressible by dint of stiffening. “You are truly- good for nothing!” said Madame Goreline to her one fine"moming. That day Her Excellency was not in the best hu mor in the world. Her adored son, Master Eugene, discontented for having been awakened so early, had begun the day- by rudeness to his mother. The latter did much to spoil him. but onlyjat times, so that she had replied to the impertinence of the little boy by two Ixixes on the ears, which had resulted in rendering mother and son furious toward each other , yet more so to every body- else. After having begged Boris to make Eugene labor without pity, she entered, exaspearted, into her chamber to make her toilet. “You are surely good for nothing.” Sonia in bringing a pitcher of water, pricked her foot with a pintbdt had fallen upon the floor and she , rsuaily,.in*.I del- the ben -^*_q ** v ind.Jila.fng tue curtain. Very deliberately, she placed ner pitcher upon the floor and drew oiit the pin that had penetrated the flesh of her bare foot. “Just look!” cried Madame Goreline, hot with an ger. “instead of repairing the mischief you have done, there you are occupying yourself with y-our foot! Will you go and bring a sponge, y-ou little wretch!” Sonia ran to get a sponge, and returned quickly-, but she had forgotten the tub, and the inundation gaining ground, a delicate colored silk robe, which was hanging half off the lied, got wet around the skirt and was irreparably damaged. The anger of Madame Goreline knew no Ixmnds. “I will throw you out in the street!” she cried, “You can go—you shall not sleep here another night! Go out of here, since you are good for noth ing but to spoil everything.” “Madame, madame, where shall I go!” said the child, her heart full, but without shedding a tear, for she could weep but lit tie, having accustomed her self to stifle her tears. ‘ 'That makes n< i difference to me! Go away from here—leave the village. I do not wish to see you again: you are not worth the bread you eat!” The fury- of Madame Goreline seemed to calm, but the fire of wicked resolve shone in her eyes, “Madame,no one wants me, I am only an orphan; if y-ou send me away, I have only- the forests to go to. and the wolves will eat me.” “Go where you wish, but I must not see y-ou again. Do you hear me?” replied the lady, coldly. ‘You are doing wrong, Madame, and God will punish you,” said the little girl, regarding her with a defiant air. “If you are here to-morrow,” cried Mad imeGore line, almost beside herself. I will have' you whipped and locked up like a lieggar. Your moth- did not belong here. I owe you nothing. Go!” “God will punish you, madame,” repeated Sonia. She went out with her head proudly erect, but her heart bursting with an implacable indignation. Her cheeks were scarlet, her eyes flawing: she would have killed Madame Goreline without re morse if she had found any- weapon handy. Hap- Tabemacle Sermons. DISCOURSE OF Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage. ALL FOR THE BEST. pilv, she found nothing. She went to Boris's r< room, hoping to find him there, to relate to him what had happened, but he was giving Eugene his lesson in the study-hall. Without hurrying, Without replying to the rail lery of the servants, she went out, taking from a hiding-place known only to herself, the few clothes she possessed, made up a small bundle and seated herself near the door of the servants' rixim, waiting for Boris to lx- at leisure so she could ask his advice and protection. Eugene did not wish his tutor to carry out his mother’s request regarding his studies, and his first care was to torment Boris: but seeing he was badly received, he changed his teasing to opeh warfare. Everv means seemed to him good, if he could an noy the y-oung man, and in spite of his stoicism and the small cause for these hostilities, two or three times Boris felt the angry-blood surge to his face. Re pressing a strong desire to throw the naughty boy out the window, at the end of two or three hours of patience he contented himself by sayiug: “Tosmorrow is the Safibath, but you have had your Sabbath to day. Go amuse yourself to-day, for to-morrow will be school-day-.” Eugene was furious, and went out wondering how he could have revenge. He bit bis fingers’ ends for about five minutes, when a bright idea came (into his mind. He directed his steps toward his sister’s “Lydia,” said he, gravely, “I have finished my lesson; y-ou can go and take yours. ' After that he went out, his hands in his trowser’s pockets, to search for his mother. (To be Continued.) In 1564, a Dutchman, named William Boonen, brought the first coach into England, and, it is said, the sight of it put both horses and men into amaze ment. Some said it was a crab shell, brought out of China, and some imagined it to be one of the Pagan temples in w hich the cannibals adored the devil. In the reign of James I., men and women wore looking glasses publicly—the men, as brooches or ornaments in their hats, and the women at their girdles, or on their bosoms, or sometimes (like the ladies of our day) in the centre of their fans, which were then made of feathers, inserted into silver or ivory tubes. Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: and see if there he any wicked way in me, and load me in the way everlasting—I’sla.ms exxxix., 23. It takes alxiut fifty or sixty y-ears of hard study to learn how little we know. There is a time in early life when we know everything. We are im patient at the counsel of our superiors in age, and, with a toss of the nead, we say: “ I guees I know what I’m alxiut.” The youthful botanist pulls the flower to peices, gives scientific terms to each part, and thinks he has exhausted the flower. The young geologist, with his hammer, smites the rock, breaks it, classifies it, and thinks he has exhausted the rock. But, after awhile, we come up to some hard, impa-sahle fact. We drop the plummet of investigation in some great profound where we can not touch bottom. The question of a child three y-ears of age balks us. We try to survey-some new realm of thought, and we find that there are not enough 1 nks and chains to complete the survey. Now, we pull spart the flower, but, instead of 1 ic ing satisfied as though we know all about it, we lean up against the pillar of the stamen, confouimed for ever. For the ten thousandth time we ask the question, “Why-!” and get for an answer the echo of our own voice. We come up only to the outside door-step of the great temple of mystery: we hear within it the rabiing of many voices, and we listen but 011 the door is one word which has kept out all the generations of the past, and which is keeping us out—the word “Unsearchable.” But, after all, the greatest mystery is in our own soul We un derstand ten thousand things better than we do our own nature. The heart is a labyrinth more intricate than the mausoleum of the ancient kings. There are in our souls doors that have never been opened, languages which have never been transla ted. enigmas that have never been solved, monsters that have never been hunted down, and it was in the appreciation of that fact that the author of my text cried out: “Search me, O God, and try me!” There was a knight in Rome, who, notwithstanding a great many troubles, always slept well, and after his death, Agustus, the Emperor, sent and bought the pillow on which he had lieen accustomed to sleep, supposing there was something in that pillow to bring placidity to a restles soul. It is my ambi tion to day to shake up a pillow on which all the weary and the troubled may put their heads for rest. I propose to show some of the ways in which God explores a man, and the use that comes of it. First of all. I remark that God searches a man by His Holy Spirit. I rememeniber hearing a stout minister of the.Gospel,standing in my pulpit, in front of me one Sabbath, preach about the Holy Ghost. It was the last sermon that man ever preached. I said within myself, that was a fit theme for the close of auselul bf°. Oh, the power of the Holy- Ghost! Lord Chatham was taken by a friend to hear Cecil preach. Richard Cecil presented the Gosjxil. Earl Cheatham did not understand it. and he went away saying to his friend, “Do you think anybody understood it?” “Yes,” said liis friend; “the plainest Christian man in all that house un derstood it.” There are some things that only those understand who have felt the power of the Holy Ghost. Here is a man wo feels he is all right. A few inconsis tencies, perhajis, and a few inaccuracies; but, upon the whole, he is in a tolerably good condition. The Holy Spirit seizes him. Why now does he tremble! Why now that grief-struck look! Why now can he not sleep nights? The Holy Spirit has' come upon him. He finds there are inhabitants in his soul that he ne never dreamed of The reptiles begin to un coil and to hiss at him. The man says: “Can it be that I have lieen carrying such a nature as this forty, fifty, sixty, seventy years!” And he imme diately liegins to apologise, and he reviews the bet ter points of his character. He says: “I don’t owe a msn a dollar.” God says, by his Holy Spirit, “You have robbed me of a whole lifetime.” The man says, “I am not arrogant; I don't take on airs.” The Holy spirit savs, “You are too proud to kneel.” The man says. “I am moral.” The Holy Spirit “d* T py/ .:’X The Tuan says, .“I aiu regular in attendance at church.” The Holy Spirit says, “You cannot be saved by outward ordinance. What a cross you have rejected! What a risk you are running!” And then the trumpet of resurrection is blown in that man’s soul, and all the valleys of the human heart are filled with a great host of iniquities bat tling against God. The man rouses up. He says, “I must get awr y from this; I must get into the fresh air. I must go to business.” The Holy spirit says, ‘ ‘ You cannot go to business; this is the mightiest of all business—the business of the soul.” Then all the past sins of the man’s life come Ixifore him troop by troop. From that point many repent and live. From that point many turn back and die. When John Easter, the evangelist, was preaching in .1 great forest, there was suddenly a sound over head so tremendous that the audience were panic- stricken, and the horses that were tied to the twigs and the boughs broke loose. The audience looked up among the leaves, and they were all quiet. The historian cannot tell us what it was. Some thought it was the Holy Gnost, like the sound of the mighty wind. The Holy Spirit of God to-day is in this au dience and he is searching you through and through. But I remark again, Gixl traverses a man by prosperity. He was amiable, he was kind, he was generous, he was useful, while he was in ordinary circumstances: but by sudden inheritance, or by the opening of railroad communication with his land, or by some stroke of commercial genius, he gets a fortune. Now, yon say, he is a good man; his wealth will all be sanctified, and he will be very- grateful. Look at him. You are mistaken. God is going to search that man by his prosperities; He is going to see whether he will lie as humble in the big house as he was in the small one; He is go ing to give him enlarged resources, and see whether his charities will keep pace with those resources. When he was worth so much, he gave so much. He is worth twice as much now. Does he double his charities? God says: “I will explore that man, I will try that man, I will search that man.” Fifteen years ago the man said. “What good 1 would do, if I only had the means!” He has the means now. What does he do? He expends all on himself or his family, or he takes on an arrogant air, passing through the street, as much as to say, “Get out of the way! here comes two hundred thousand dollars!” or he goes into exhausting indulgences. Who is that bloated debauchee blaspheming God? He was an elder in the Christian church twenty years ago —consistent everywhere, useful everywhere. God tried him with prosperity. He could not stand the test. Weighed in the balance and found wanting. I do not care what a man's temperament is, if he does not allow his charities to keep up with his in come, he is not only robbing God, but damaging his which represent the sufferings of Christ! Why! Be cause we admire patience, and we admire it al though we may have but very little of ourselves. And we sit down on the Sabliatli and we study patience, and we say: “Give us patience^ \\ hat a beautiful grace it is-patience!” and on Monday morning a man calls you a liar, and you knock bun down! That is all the patience you have. How little we understand how to bless those who curse us It is the general mile—an eye for an eye, grudge for grudge If a man writes an article in a news paper about you, you write an article in the news paper alxiut him. The man hits you, you lut back. How red we get in the face when we are abused. Perhaps we prided ourselves on our equilibrium of temperament, on the suavity with which we could bear ourselves amid those who dislikes us. God tries us. He says: “I will show that man how very- little of this' grace of patience he has. Now, all the hounds of persecution, and scorn, and contempt slip their leash, and your name becomes a foot-ball in community- You are sneered at where you were applauded. Some come out of tlus process serene and lieavenlv-minded, but more come out cross, splenetic, acrid, misanthropic, and queer By every dun of a creditor, by every red flag of the auctioneer flung out of the taiiestrieil window, God has been searching you. God sometimes explores us by- sickness. From other misfortunes we can run away, but flat on our backs, pain in the bead, in the heart, in the limbs, we cannot run away. No school, however well endowed, however supplied with faithful in structors anil professors, can so well teach you as the school of a sick-bed. People wonder at tiie pi ety of Edward Payson, and Richard Baxter, and Robert Hall. How did they get to be so good ! It was sanctified sickness. You think you are of a great deal of importance in commercial circles. Gixl now shuts you in the a sick-room. You do not know business can go on without you. Lying on your pillow, you hear the rambling of the wheels and the shuffling of the feet just as be fore. God says : “lam searching this man ; by every chill, by every restlessnessf by every pleuritic swinge, by every neuralicparoxism, liy every night- tweat, by every exhaustion, I shall see through and through.’’ You hear these old Christians saying, “Well, it’s all for the lx-st,” and you think it cant. There is no cant about it. They- have learned that all is for the best in their life's history. Bernard Gilpin was to be tried for his faith in God, and lie put to death. He was in the habit of saying, “It is all for the best—it is all for the best.” Starting for London to be tried for liis life and to lx: executed, he broke his leg. His associates said, in derision, “I sup pose you think this is for the liest!’’ “Of course,” said he, “it is for the best my leg is broken.” Suit proved. Before he got well enough to go to Lon don, Quran Mary died, and instead of Bernard Gil pin going to Condon and being tried and burned for Christ’s sake, he went home free. It is always for tlie best. “Ail thing work together for good tot-hose that love God.” Gixl tries us with bereavement. He searches a man by taking away his loved ones. A11 author describes a mother who had lost her children, say- to death, “Why did yon steal my flowers !” Death said, “1 didn’t steal them ; I’m no thief : I trans planted them.” “Well,” said the mother, “why did you wrench them away from ns so violently!” And Death said, "They would never lie wrenched away but you held on to lhem so violently.” Oh! how hard it is, when our friends go away from us, to realize that they are not stolen, not ‘wrenched, hut transplanted, promoted, irradiated, einpara- dised. But unless you have had bereavement you do not know what a bad heart y-ou have. We do not know how much rebellion of soul we possess un til God comes and takes some of our loved ones away. I saw a Christian woman standiug by the coffin of her husband, who had suddenly- lost his life, and she said, to my amazement: “I resist God; this is outrageous; there’s no mercy- in Gixl; this is cruel in Gixl, and I will never forgive Him.” Ah! there came afterward the peace of God that passeth all understanding. First, relxillion. How many peo ple there are in this house who would affirm the truth of what I say. Now, they look liack to trou bles that came to them years ago, ami they wonder and say, “I don’t see how I could have fought so, c.’.J'lti'^i.rtl.V.y.. \ - . '-1 I- --atc -iq was searching you. By every loneliness, by the' tramp of the pall-bearers’ feet, by the creaking gate of the tomli, by long years of painful memory, God was searching you through and through. I say no man knows his heart until he has had trouble. Well, my friends, ought we not rouse up from a subject like this and see our stupidity! Proved by the fact that God has to whip us so much. It is not ihe prayer of every one in the house this morning, “Search me, O! God, and try me?” How are we to repent of our sins unless we know what they- are? Would it not be a mercy if God would take them out to-day and slay-them before our eyes! There ought to be a soothing power in this subject for all who are troubled. \ ou see God is doing this for the best. He is making new- revelations to you. He is going to purify you. He is going to lift you up on a higher platform. He is preparing you for the kingdom of heaven. It takes just so many turns of the potter s wheel to make a vase or a cup, and the pitcher of life requires just so many- turnings of the wheel of grief. God's wheat is not ready to be taken into the garner until the hoofs of calamity, and the hoofs of persecution, and the hoofs of death have trampled it out. Do you realize, then that you are in God’s keeping? Each person in this house is as much under the searching care of God, the fatherly care of God, the motherly care of God, as though he were the only- person in all the house, in all the world, in all the'universe. I11 a \\ estem cabin, far away from all other resi dences, there sat a Christian mother rocking her babe to sleep. The husband and the father had lieen oalled suddenlv off on business, anil there had tyen no defense provided for that lious- that night in the wilderness. As the mother sat there in the cabin rocking her liabe to sleep, miles away form any other tenement, glancing to the floor she saw a ruliiian's foot projecting from under the table. Having rooked her child to sleep she put liim in the cradle, and then knelt down and said: “Oh! Lord, keep this child; keep me. Oh! Thou who never siumbercth, watch over our cabin to-night. Let no harm come to us. If there lie tho.-e abroad who wish us ill, bring to them a better mind. The Lord have mercy upon ail wanders, all who do deeils of violence and death. Bring them to Thyself—bring them to pardon and to heaven.’’ As she rose from the prayer the ruffian came out from under the ta ble and said: “There will be no harm to y-ou to night. Fray- for me. I am the wanderer that you sjxike of. Fray for me.” Years passed on, and that Christian woman sat in a great meeting called in the interest of reform. There was a great orator that day to lx? present, and as lie preached righte ousness. temjx'rance, and judgmen to come his eye fell upon the countenance of that wo nan. His cheek blanched and he almost failed in his sixx-ch own soul. Of every dollar we make God demands j At the close of the meeting they- joined hands and a certain percentage. If we keep it Ixick. it is at our peril. The old story of the miser who died in his money-cheat, liecause the lid accidentally fell down and fastened him, was the type of ten thou sand men in our day who are in their own money- vault finding their sepulcher. Whatever be the style of your prosperity, by- every dollar that you make, by- every house that you own, by every- com mercial success that you achieve, God is searching you through anil through. I do not know what your observation has lx?en, but I have not been able to find more than one man out of a hundred who could endure piosjicrity and keep his moral charac ter—just about one out of a hundred. Again: God explores a man by- adversity. Some of you are going through that process now. You say, “How beautiful it is, when a man's fortunes fail, to see him throw himself back on spiritual re sources.” Yes, it is very beautiful, but it is hard to do. It is easy for us to cut out work for other people, but not so easy to do it ourselves. God says, “I will try this man now by adversity. You tinsteil me w hen you had plenty of money in the bank: I am going to see if you will trust me when you have not a dollar.” There are many people w-ho suppose they have Christian faith, when it is only confidence in government securities. They think they have Christian joy, when it is only the exhilaration that comes from worldly successes. God, after awhile, sweeps His hand acrogs the es tate, and it is all gone. The man first scolds the banks. He says they are not clever; they ought to have allowed him a discount. Then he scolds the Congress, because it imposed a tariff. Then he scolds the gold-gamblers, because they- excited the markets. He does not understand that all the time God has him personally in the crucible. I a few words of conversation passed, and some one T,iVo y ; W * er ?4 id you . f T m the acquaintance of that orator? Ne%-er mind.” she said. “I have known him for many-years,” Who was it watch- ingthe mother that night? Who was it watching the babe? W ho was it that brought the ruffian to Gixl in repentance tor his sin; Who is it that watches all our cradles, an,Tall our tabled aff our homes, and all our tablra.-aml all our homes and all our way ! Blessed be His glorious name for- f ver * ls . a belter which we may all run He is a fortress 111 which we may all lx? safe. Oh ’ take him to-day- as your God and your portion Com plain not of your trials—they are helpful, they are AuTfritet.^ ° ,evatms ' AU - *>V thebTt! The longest snow stoi-m that was ever known m Great Britain occurred in 16,4. It is rei orded ta began^nthe isth ° f Wolton ^bert^ha ft Degan on the 15th of January-, and continued to snow every day until the 12th of March - The loss of hnmanbte, as w^a^of sheep and neat catal!? was lumtms i 'i!f >ry ° f f£ l \ ba ’ P revious to the time of Co lumbus, is a myth, but since that time v hen Va- lasques burned the simple natives at the s ake for ofS t0 h^V ,P > m,S in ^fence of tin- uitegrity of their little territory, up t • the viviu battles of ^ only would fie appro priate with which to write its story. f maximum tem,lerature of October is S8 de- gi ees, the highest ever recorded at the sinn 1 office degrras C,ty ’ ^ mimmU1U tem P eratu n? has lx?en 34